


Fantasies Are Alright

by abstractsta



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, PWP, Pre-Relationship, casturbation, fantasies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 15:11:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12015390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abstractsta/pseuds/abstractsta
Summary: Once, Cas came when Dean called, finding that the man wasn't in any trouble at all. Quite the opposite. That moment hasn't left Castiel since, and maybe he doesn't even want it to. And he has the room all for himself for a while, so whats an angel to do?





	Fantasies Are Alright

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EthneDragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EthneDragon/gifts).



> Based on some scintillating comments [EthneDragon](http://archiveofourown.org/users/EthneDragon/pseuds/EthneDragon) made about Cas having some fun for the first time, fully clothed :)

The motel room Castiel flew into was empty, the warding against angels on Dean and Sam's ribs doing their work. It seemed like the right place, the brothers' duffels beside their beds, a couple empty beer bottles on the table.

Cas sat down on Dean's bed resigning to wait for as long as it took for them to come back. It wasn't anything urgent anyway, otherwise he'd called.

He looked around, his thoughts jamming when he saw the open door to the bathroom, the floor wet, informing him that someone had been taking a shower not long ago. The image of Dean standing under the spray came forth instantly, the time when Castiel had flown in, clearly at an inopportune moment, when he'd heard Dean's pleas and found him masturbating.

Cas had left before Dean noticed him, but that moment stayed with Cas ever since. He licked his lips nervously, trying to chase the thought away, but it was incessant, how Dean had looked like in the midst of his pleasure, face turned up, water running along his chest.

Castiel had wanted to trail it with his tongue.

He shifted on his seat, growing hard in his slacks at the mere idea of being able to do that, to touch Dean like that, to be the one to bring him that pleasure. What would it be like?

Cas got up and shed his trench coat, folding it haphazardly on the bed. He'd made his mind. He was going to do it, and he probably didn't have much time, so he kept on the rest of his clothes, in case he was interrupted.

Cautiously, Cas sat further back on the bed, leaning against the wall. What if he had Dean on this bed, naked and aroused, because of him? Like he'd been in the shower, silently calling his name.

His cock throbbed as he let the thought come clearer; how Dean would groan under his touch, if Cas took him in hand.

He still had time to back off. He didn't have to do this. He'd gone without this long.

The memory rose to the forefront of his mind again, and suddenly the need to get some pressure on himself was unbearable. Cas pressed the heel of his hand against the bulge, his eyes closing against the dull ache of pleasure he hadn't expected. It wasn't enough. Suddenly, the idea of just willing it away felt like he was deceiving himself. If Dean was allowed, _welcome_ , to use Castiel for his fantasy, wasn't it only fair that Cas was permitted to do the same to him?

It wasn't like Dean would ever know.

Bolstered by the thought, Cas unhooked the clasp of his slacks and unzipped himself, fingers finding his heated flesh through the opening of his boxers, and he drew his cock out, fisting himself loosely, his mouth open with a sigh.

It wasn't much of a relief, the sparks skittering over his skin more an irritant than pleasure. He tightened his hold, moving his hand down experimentally, his mind finding the memory of Dean again, his focus on Dean's hand sliding along his cock, on his face, contorted and beautiful in his hedonism.

Cas let out another sigh and began to stroke faster, with intent, his hips coming off the bed to meet his hand, those few seconds of Deans hand on his turgid flesh the center of his heated mind, the sight of it playing back over and over again, making Cas's back curve, his breath erratic and his movements jagged.

What if he hadn't fled? What if he'd joined Dean in the shower? Got onto his knees and helped him to completion?

He couldn't stop the low, long moan from escaping his throat, his head pressed tight against the wall, tendons on his neck tightening as he clenched his teeth together, thoughts wild, a fire roiling in the pit of his stomach as he imagined himself on his knees, tasting Dean, him looking up to find Dean staring at him, enraptured.

His cock twitched hard in his hold, he could feel his grace dancing along his spine, all along his body, right to his fingertips, while the fantasy took new shape, how Dean pushed his shaft past Cas's lips, how his fingers curved into Cas's hair, a warning...

Cas came with a helpless shout, the results of his self-indulgence spilling over his hand and onto his shirt, even the edge of his tie. He was still fucking his fist shallowly through the aftershocks, dragging out every last bit of this self induced gratification.

He slumped against the wall, breathing hard, blinking his eyes open as if seeing the world for the first time, giddy with sexual delectation.

His cock softened in his hand, and Cas tucked himself away gingerly. With some irrational disappointment, he realized he'd have to wait to do this again. Not that he had the time right now anyway. But he was certainly going to do it again.

He swallowed hard, dry throat clicking as he headed to the bathroom to clean himself up.

A brief flash of something akin to shame flashed in his chest, the impurity of his actions trying to claw at him, but it dissolved as quickly when he realized he'd done nothing wrong. He hadn't blamed Dean for thinking about him, surely Dean wouldn't be mad about this.

And of course he wouldn't be.

Dean would never find out.

A key turned in the lock of the front door when Castiel had finished trying to clean his semen off his shirt with a wad of wet toilet paper, managing to get the shirt and tie damp and decorated with small paper balls clinging to the fabric.

Cas turned to look, hands frozen to place when he met Dean's eyes.

“What happened to you, man?” Dean grinned, looking Cas over and tossing a bloody machete on the table.

“I just... I. Spilled something.” Castiel tried very hard not to blush.

***

 


End file.
